


The Missing Piece

by wallofcrazy



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Friendship, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-03
Updated: 2013-10-03
Packaged: 2017-12-28 06:56:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/989068
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wallofcrazy/pseuds/wallofcrazy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He was coming down the station, a pack of files in his hands, when suddenly he was stopped on his tracks by a question he overheard as he was passing by.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Missing Piece

**Author's Note:**

> Both Elementary and The Bro Code belong to CBS. 
> 
> English is not my first language...

Sherlock was used to overhearing bits and pieces of conversations around the station, or anywhere really, one of the costs of what he did. A place with people who spent most of their time occupying the same space was bound to be fulfilled by chatter, nothing new there. But, unless it was pertaining to a current/potential case, or related to Joan, he came to find, none of that had significance to him.

He was coming down the station, a pack of files in his hands, when suddenly he was stopped on his tracks by a question he overheard as he was passing by.

"Hey, what's up with Holmes and Watson? Are they an item? A romantic item, I mean?" The question was made by a prosecutor called Jared, Sherlock concluded after thinking for a moment, trying to link his voice to a face. They've crossed paths a lot at the station.

"Why are you interested?" Sherlock couldn't see who was at the other side of the dialogue as well, but there was no chance he wouldn't recognize the owner of that voice, detective Bell.

"Whoa, is just that she seems a mighty catch and if they're not together, you know."

"You're planning on asking her out?"

"Yeah, I was thinking if you could put in a good word for me? Unless, you're also interested on her? I know you two are friends, I don't mean to overstep."

"Whoa, Joan and I? No, no, we've became friends but that's it. She's great, but there's a line. Plus a bro must respect the code. Sherlock is my colleague, but I also consider him a friend. He may not even know what dibs are, but he's made sure to, wordlessly, but very loudly, believe me, call his. Plus, I have no intention in jeopardizing what we've built so far or in making things awkward. I've learnt my lesson about dating coworkers."

"So, you're basically saying she's spoken for?"

"Precisely. Leave them alone. It'll be better for everyone, especially you." The detective making sure to emphasize the 'you', Sherlock discerned.

"Well, a guy's gotta try, right? See ya later."

Sherlock made sure to go back to his trail as the men took their separate ways. He reached his destination, the interrogation room he and Joan have been using as an office for the day. His face was of someone deep in though.

"You look like you're making your way through an epiphany." Joan stated upon looking at him as he re-entered the room.

"One could call it that." Sherlock voiced almost to himself.

"So…"

"Oh, my, uh, it's not related to the case, I'm afraid."

"Oh." Joan said, not thinking much of it and getting back to the file she had been perusing in his absence.

Hours later that conversation was still echoing in Sherlock's mind. And he couldn't avoid looking up what exactly Bell had meant when he mentioned the code.

He and Watson had just had dinner and the pair was still seated at their red table, studying files in search of possible connections between their current case and cold ones.

Sherlock opened up his notebook and went in search of said code. Whilst reading the many articles and amendments, he finally found the one detective Bell was referring to: "In the event that two bros lock onto the same target, the bro who calls dibs first has dibs." This particular article went on with many tie-breaking rules, but that one line has prevented Sherlock from focusing on anything else. He had to make things clear and it had to be done now.

"Watson?"

"Hmm…"

"Are you familiar with a code by the name of Bro?"

"A what?" It took a few seconds for Joan to process his question.

"Oh, The Bro Code?" She asked looking for confirmation. "Yes, I've heard of it." He was looking at her like he was expecting for her to elaborate her answer. "There's a sitcom I watch on occasion that explores this rather male centered and misogynistic code. Why do you ask?"

She was really curious now. He's been in an introspect mood since he went out in search of those files back at the station earlier that day, but by now she knew better than to probe him. Once he was ready he would come to her, which, apparently, had just happened.

"Do you think our partnership is keeping you from meeting new people? Potential mates, I mean?" He interrupted her thoughts.

Alarm bells went off on Joan's head, but her voice remained composed. "Sherlock, where is this coming from?"

"Do you?" He pressed. "Has your working with me been a hindrance to your love life? I've always assumed you were just not interested in pursuing a relationship, however, something has come to my attention recently and it got me thinking I might have been wrong in my assumption."

After overhearing the talk at the precinct, Sherlock had become aware of how the amount of time he and Joan spend together might look to an outsider. How intimidating that could be to potential love interests. He's also become in touch with how he felt about her. However, he knew it wasn't fair to simply expect the same from her. Now that he was conscious of that, he knew the subject had to be approached. And the possibility of them not being on the same page was what had him anxious.

"This is out of character for you. Where are you trying to get?"

"I, I overheard a conversation between detective Bell and a prosecutor at the station earlier today in which the latter was consulting the former about 'making a move on' you. Detective Bell discouraged him, and then the aforementioned prosecutor asked if that was because he was also interested in you. Detective Bell dismissed it by pointing out he is friends with both you and I and that he had no desire to make things awkward between the three of us, alleging that I have dibs."

"Huh." She really didn't see that coming.

"You still haven't answered my question."

She inhaled deeply pondering about the courses this conversation could take. "I'm afraid your assumption is wrong," she said after a few seconds, sticking with straightforward honesty, something that worked between the two of them when situations like this presented themselves.

"I see. I'll make some arrangements so you'll have more-"

"And also right," she continued. "I'm not interested in meeting potential mates," she paused, "because I am already in a relationship."

"Watson, that's ludicrous. I assure you, I would know if you were in a relationship."

"You would, wouldn't you?"

"I'm positive. I know you still have some of your private life preserved, but I'm certain you are not involved with anyone." He was fidgeting now. She could tell this conversation wasn't flowing like he would have expected.

"Let's see. This person I am in a relationship with knows me more than anyone else; he's changed my life in a way I couldn't have ever predicted; he is always challenging me; he's also always encouraging me; he brings out the best in me; he's my best friend; he's the only one who has the ability to enchant and infuriate me at the same time-"

"Unless you're online dating, but the amount of time you spend on your computer or mobile haven't increased," he mumbled. The expression on his face looking almost hurt, "I _am_ keeping you from-"

"Will you let me finish?" Her hands signaling for him to wait for his time to speak. "He's very good at picking out my clothes for the day; he sees me for who I am; he introduces me as his partner; he's charmed my family; he's got a British accent; he even has brought me breakfast in bed on a few occasions, which I found a nice gesture, in spite of his ulterior motives; he named a new species of bee after me; he-"

"Watson, it would appear you're mixing up people now."

"Nothing of what I just said registered in your brain, did it? I am not 'mixing up people'! I am talking about one person only."

He had his head inclined to the side, his mouth now in a 'O' shape.

"I am talking about you," she said pointing at him. "Just so we're clear."

"I, I see. You spend all of your time with me. I'll make sure to diminish your hours. It wasn't my intention, when you started working as my partner, that you forgo your personal life in order-"

For a man so smart and observant he sure as hell could be very oblivious. Especially when it came to people he cared about, Joan thought.

"Sherlock!" She shouted his name cutting him off. "I am right where I want to be. I am happy with the work we do together. I am happy I have you as my best friend. I am happy with you. I don't want to go after mates, I have already found mine."

After a few seconds processing what she's just said, he finally responded, relief evident on his features, "I'm glad to hear you say that, Watson. I, I have been meaning to find an appropriate opportunity to say something to you."

"Yes?" She said as an encouragement.

"I've, I've solved it."

The look on her face told him that she had no idea of what he was referring to.

"The enigma I didn't have the answer to when I proposed to you in detective Bell's apartment."

She couldn't conceal the surprise look on her face if she tried, Sherlock noticed.

"Who was the first person you encountered when you first arrived at the brownstone?"

"A prostitute." She was quick to answer.

"How long has it been since you last ran into the Lynch sisters? Or any other pleasure providers?"

"It's been a while, and for that I am very thankful." The last part came out as a murmur.

He was looking at the table, "You should be thankful to _you_ then. It was because of you that I had no need to call any of them any-"

Joan was on the verge of panicking. She knew there would come a day this conversation would have to take place. If he didn't have initiated it, she would have to, soon enough. However, it didn't make her any less nervous about the changes that would result from what have rapidly morphed into a heart to heart. "Sherlock,-"

"Let me finish, please. I," his eyes on her face now, "you astound me. You challenge me. You always ask the right question, even when you know it'll momentarily aggravate me. Your mind and approach to things incite me and make me want to learn from you. You are so good at reading people, their emotions. You've taught, you've taught me a great deal. You," he paused, unsure if he was ready to let it all out, "you complete me. I am good at what I do without you? Naturally. But you make me better. You make me want to be better. You accept me. You've made me warmer, more forgiving, empathizing. You showed me how to look beyond the puzzles; you showed me a new way of looking into the puzzles. Having you by my side makes me work, function at optimum levels." He sees it, the moment it registers on her, the allusion. But her response isn't the one he was anticipating and before he could rephrase it, she reacted.

"You're saying you don't need sex anymore? That having me in your life has-?" She did know he was privy to the fact that she is a woman. She's caught him surreptitiously glancing at her more times than she could remember. But she needed to hear him say it out loud, if this conversation was going where it was going.

"Watson," he immediately interrupted her, "I didn't mean," his index finger massaging between his eyes, his mind searching for the right words, "this is not what I meant, at all. My intention was to make you see that having you by my side fulfills my life, entirely. In retrospect, I'm very glad that you were brought into my life and that you chose to stay. And," he paused, one of his hands resting on his lap, the other lightly tracing the edge of the table, "believe me, I'm very well conscious of the fact that you are a woman."

What she didn't know, though, was how to verbally respond to that. So she does something that wasn't common between the two of them up to that moment. She extends her arms above the table in order to get to the hand he has resting on it. She encloses his hand in both of hers before saying, "You are not being a hindrance to my love life, Sherlock Holmes. I am right where I want to be, with the person I want to be with. You are my partner, in every sense of the word. You don't have to worry about this, or doubt it, ever. Clear?" She asked him in a tone of voice she reserved just for him, he came to realize.

"Clear," he responded in a low tone, eyes fixed on hers. His free hand moving to encircle hers, which still firmly held his other. "And for the record, the same goes for me."

She smiled and, hesitantly, added, "But… ummm… I'm not ready for _more_ , though." Her eyes more articulate than her words.

"I, um, am not either." He squeezed her hands in support. "We're both content with our status quo and, eventually, when it comes to _that_ , we'll solve it as well. Together." They held each other's gaze in reassurance, and after a couple of seconds the moment faded away and they got back to the tasks they were performing before this whole surreal conversation came to pass. Only now they both had knowing smiles stamped on their faces. And they didn't even try to masquerade it.


End file.
